


the tooth of the matter

by maraudersourwolf



Series: sterek trope reversal event [6]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Attempt at Humor, Attempted Love Confession, Drugged Derek Hale, Fluff and Humor, Laughing Gas, M/M, Mutual Pining, Supportive Stiles Stilinski, Tooth Removal, Wolfsbane Use
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-10
Updated: 2018-09-10
Packaged: 2019-07-10 13:13:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,350
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15950069
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/maraudersourwolf/pseuds/maraudersourwolf
Summary: When he agreed to be Derek’s emotional support, he expected extra growliness and maybe an extra bruise somewhere.This exceeds every and all expectation.





	the tooth of the matter

**Author's Note:**

  * For [roseszain](https://archiveofourown.org/users/roseszain/gifts).
  * Inspired by [toothy flirting](https://archiveofourown.org/works/13556874) by [maraudersourwolf](https://archiveofourown.org/users/maraudersourwolf/pseuds/maraudersourwolf). 



> **STEREK TROPE REVERSAL EVENT | DAY 6: FLIP THE COIN**
> 
>  
> 
>  
> 
> Well, I kinda cheated on this one a bit.  
> I did flipped the coin.  
> I just took the tiny detail of 'established relationship' away.  
> The idea of Derek trusting enough in Stiles to ask him for help was way too appealing.  
>  
> 
>  **Theo,**  
>  I gifted you the first one, so I'm gifting you this one as well.  
> Because I can't spoil you enough.  
>  
> 
> Barely to none at all beta'd.  
> Not so messy, I think.  
> One day I'll do really funny humor.  
> Enjoy!

 

 

“He _killed_ me!”

Stiles has to give Derek extra points for that dramatic wailing, because he’s sure that the wolf just out stunned every, _every_ dramatic scene in the world in just seconds.

All of them, perishing under the power of Derek’s antics.

“No, I’m pretty sure you didn’t get kill,” he huffs while trying to readjust Derek’s weight over his body and lead him towards the jeep, instead of letting him go astray and get back to the clinic.

“Murdered me! I am _dead_ now!”

“Derek, he didn’t-- Derek, put your claws away”

It sends a shiver down his own spine how close his voice sounded like his dad’s. He expected to use it with his or Scott’s kids, fifteen or twenty years from now. Not with a baked werewolf.

And, somehow, it still gives him a realistic response back.

Derek barely if keeps himself quiet for two seconds.

“He’s a bad man,” Derek wails again, “We need-- I need-- He took my strength!”

If only Derek reacted like that with real danger instead of that martyr thing he seems to keep on going, Stiles life would be so much easier in the day by day.

He successfully herds Derek to the passenger seat and convince him to sit, even if the wolf keeps doing a strange light show with his eyes going from the kaleidoscopic wonder to the neon blue to try to convince him to stop.

Stiles has to give him an A+ for the effort.

“No, Deaton didn’t take your strength, he just-- y’know what? I don’t get paid enough for this,” mumbles Stiles, trying to buckle Derek to the jeep, having the wolf still trying to step out from it. “In fact, I don’t get paid at all, which is even worse because--”

“Kisses,” mumbles Derek.

Or at least that’s what Stiles hears between the chipmunk cheek and Derek moving his tongue around weirdly as if he doesn’t recognize it as an appendix attached to his body.

“What was that, big guy?,” replies Stiles absently, finally being able to click Derek’s seatbelt in, just to realize that the werewolf is alternatively petting between Stiles’ hair and his own before scowling.

“Why isn’t mine soft?,” Derek whines and Stiles tries really hard not to find that pouting adorable. He’s going to get so murdered if he even tries to laugh. Or get any evidence for future reference. “I am not going to get kissed by astronomi-- astronimic-- astralim-- by constellation people”

“Oh my god,” Stiles breathes out, halfway between amusement and complete bewilderment, “How much of that stuff did Deaton give you?”

“Two, I think”

“Two? Two what? Two drags? Two whole hours? Two pounds of--”

“Maybe ten more”

The groan that burst from the middle of his chest is beyond the point of frustration. Beyond the point of any other stage of grief, safely landing into the acceptance of having a really high werewolf trying to relearn how a conversation works on a Thursday afternoon after mouth surgery.

A perk Derek didn’t even own in the first place.

He lets his face fall over Derek’s shoulder for a second, ignoring the way the werewolf just sniffs at him for a moment before petting his face and mumbling _‘pretty pretty thing’_ , trying to recapitulate each and every decision that lead him to this exact point and whose fault was it just to get to the conclusion that he’s the only one to blame.

This is his life now.

Expectations be damned.

Looking up, he can’t help but smile. Yes, Derek is high as a kite right now, but he looks so soft and so happy that Stiles actually thinks for a second about convincing Deaton to take Derek’s wisdom teeth more often and bless Derek with this nonsensical moments of bliss that the laughing gas mixed with wolfbane provides. Or maybe he can find a way to re-grow them. There must be a book with a hex to grow back wisdom teeth somewhere, Stiles is sure.

“How about some ice-cream?,” Stiles asks and he will swear until the ends of times that Derek’s eyes twinkled with excitement. “Are you hungry enough for some ice-cream?”

Derek nods.

Then shakes his head.

Then stops for a couple of seconds and does a weird thing with his head that reminds Stiles of puppies trying to follow up their own tail before finally settling those ridiculous green-blue-grey eyes on his face.

“On the moon?”

Okay, maybe he’ll rethink about the growing back those wisdom teeth idea. Not even years of Scott getting drunk before being a werewolf would have prepared him for something like this.

“Dude, how high are you right now?”

“Don’t call me dude,” Derek scowls and it lacks layers upon layers of murder vibes. He’s just this softened version of his only one favorite facial expression.

And Stiles is not as strong of a man as he thought he was, by the way he finds really hard to avoid cooing out loud.

“Let's get you that ice-cream now…,” he mumbles before pulling away and closing Derek’s door.

He’s not fleeing.

Not really.

He has to round the jeep to be able to sit on the driver’s side. If he just takes the longer route to take a breather, well.

He’s allowed.

Channeling the same entity that his father and Melissa did all those years ago to be able to deal with him in the early years, Stiles takes a deep breath and goes into the jeep without as much as a though.

The ice-cream parlour is the one and only goal, he’s not going to let his mind do laps of conspiracy theories over Derek’s facial expression and his lack of--

“We’re on a date,” Derek, swear to any deity up there listening to them right now, giggles.

_Giggles._

Stiles barely if keeps himself in check to not slam the breaks and call for backup on this one.

“You know who I am, right?,” he tries to play it cool, but his traitorous voice comes out high pitched. His fingers starting to tap a strange rhythm over the steering wheel that Stiles isn’t sure that’s not just his brain morse coding for help.

“Yeah,” Derek sounds almost dreamily and Stiles has a really hard time to sit still on his seat now. “Spark boy. With the pretty constellations on his face and the fire on his eyes, always saving my day and--”

“And I’m going to cut you right there if you don’t want me to crash the car because of a heart attack”

Derek stops, because clearly his brain is fogged but not enough to discard a car accident as something non lethal for his still too stuffed with wolfsbane body.

Still, Stiles doesn’t really get to appreciate the silence in the cabin because this pod version of Derek doesn’t seem to enjoy making that small blessing last.

“What about tomorrow?,” Derek mumbles. “Can I say it tomorrow?”

Taking his eyes off the road for a second, Stiles can see that Derek isn’t looking back at him. Not really. He seems to look at his reflexion. Or maybe not even that. Stiles isn’t even sure Derek said anything, maybe he just hallucinated it. Maybe he invented this whole thing and he’ll wake up at any moment at the side of the road, with the jeep as a wreckage around him and--

And maybe he just needs to stop freaking out.

“Yeah,” he breathes out. “Yeah, say it tomorrow”

Derek hums, in agreement.

Then hums in what seems like a question, but before Stiles can ask about it, he starts humming a song that’s an extrange mix of every Britney Spears song available on earth and some Old MacDonald mixed over there.

It doesn’t last too long either, Derek turning to look at him sharply.

“This is still an ice-cream date,” he informs before looking back to the window and start the humming all together, making Stiles snort.

Yeah, this is his life now.

And he definitely wouldn’t even dream for it to be any other way.

 


End file.
